


Only the Best Things Happen at 3AM

by jonsasnow



Series: Jonsa Week 2017 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jonsa Week 2017, Modern AU, adorable jon, because ghost is perfect, drunk Sansa, features ghost, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: When Jon wakes up to Ghost's barking at 3 in the morning, the last thing he expected to see was a beautiful redhead sobbing while cuddling his dog.





	Only the Best Things Happen at 3AM

**Author's Note:**

> a very late day 4!

Jon likes to think he’s a fairly level-headed guy. There isn’t much that really fazes him. He’s had to grow up fast due to his mum dying when he was young, so life really has already thrown its worst shit his way. At twenty-five, Jon is confident he can handle everything else, so when he wakes up to his dog barking loudly at three in the morning, evidently _not_ in the house, Jon is only a little concerned. Ghost is a big Husky with red eyes and most people tend to take one look at him and run the other direction. 

Except it’s three in the morning and those barks don’t sound angry or territorial. 

It’s not quite a cause for concern, but it does make Jon apprehensive when he unlocks the backdoor to the garden. He’s not sure what he was expecting, maybe a burglar or one of those annoying students from the nearby university that like to play pranks on the hard-working local residents. But he’s sure as shit wasn’t expecting a drop dead gorgeous girl in a plaid shirt tied in a bow just below her breasts and cut-off denim shorts that are far too short to be appropriate attire anywhere. Not to mention the even more absurd fact that she’s sobbing uncontrollably while cuddling Ghost like he’s some lap dog instead of the guard dog he’s supposed to be. 

Not wanting to startle the girl, Jon clears his throat. Instantly, her eyes snap up to his, watery and startled like a doe before the slaughter. He feels guilty for it, like he’s encroaching on something he shouldn’t be, but goddamnit, it’s three in the morning and this _is_ his house. “Are you okay, miss?” he asks because his mum did raise him to be polite. “Are you lost or something?” 

She blinks, wipes the tears away with the back of one hand, while the other remains circled around Ghost, who just sits there wagging his tail, tongue lolling out like a bloody traitor. “I –” she hiccups. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” And then just like that, the girl starts sobbing all over again and Jon immediately rushes to her side despite the warning bells in his head saying that maybe this is all a ruse and she’s one of those rare female serial killers. 

He places a hand tentatively on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not… I won’t call the police. It’s fine. Do you need anything? Do you want me to ring someone for you?” 

“Lady!” she wails loudly. 

“Pardon?” Jon has to ask because he’s not entirely sure what she’s trying to say. 

“Lady,” she repeats, the tears still flowing quickly down her pinkened cheeks. She wraps both arms around Ghost again and nuzzles her face into his fur. “Lady.” 

“Uh… is _your_ name Lady? Or do you want me to call someone _named_ Lady?” He is so thoroughly confused right now, Jon can’t help wondering if maybe this isn’t just some really elaborate dream he’s having. 

The girl’s head tilts upwards as she glares at him. “No! _My_ name is Sansa.” 

_Sansa_ … A pretty name for a pretty girl. Too bad she seems completely insane, Jon thinks. 

She exhales loudly, a shuddering sound, but at least the tears have stopped. He also realises then that there is a distinct stench of alcohol on her breath and she probably _is_ one of those annoying students from the uni as well. But she’s here on her own and that can’t be good. Either, she really is bad news or she’s running from something or someone. Maybe Jon should call the police. 

“Let me ring someone for you, yeah?” he tries again. “We’ll get you home, I promise.” 

“No!” she shouts now, blue eyes panicked. She lets one arm fall away from Ghost to reach out for his hand. Her skin is cold, like she’s been out here in the night dressed in barely anything for hours. Jon makes a decision then, a stupid decision, but there just doesn’t seem to be a way around it at this point. 

“Okay, how about this… Let me help you inside. I’ll get you something warm to wear, brew you a cup of tea and you can tell me what’s going on, yeah?” Jon says. As she mulls over his proposition, he scans her for any sign of something sinister, but the smooth expanse of skin reveal she is in perfect condition. More than perfect, Jon is ashamed to think, because really, he should _not_ be checking out the poor girl. She’s clearly in a vulnerable emotional state.

Sansa finally nods and Jon quickly helps her up. Together, they walk into his house and he immediately goes to grab a hoodie and sweats from his wardrobe for her to wear. He also actively tries not to notice how his clothes dwarf her slender frame or the way she’s just pulled her red hair from its bun, its long waves flowing past her shoulders. 

_Get a fucking grip, Snow_. 

Once a mug of tea is placed into her hands, Sansa looks a little more put together than she did only moments before. She’s still cuddling his dog, who is lapping up the attention, and eyeing him with suspicion in her eyes. 

“So uh… I don’t think I said this before, but I’m Jon,” he says, as a way to break the ice. “Jon Snow. I live here. Well, okay, you probably guessed that.” He swears under his breath. “Do you go to the university?”

She nods. “I’m in my final year.” 

“Cool. That’s… cool. What are you studying?” 

“Politics and International Relations.”

“Fuck, that sounds intense. Not what I pictured you doing, to be honest,” Jon tells her. 

Sansa blushes and something oddly possessive rushes through him. “I know. Most people don’t. I did start with Fashion and Business, but… both my parents are in politics and I guess I just want to follow in their footsteps.” 

“That’s nice. Do they approve?” he asks. “My mum was a waitress, so I don’t think she would’ve wanted me to do the same.” He laughs, a little self-deprecatingly. 

“ _Was?_ ” 

“She died when I was seventeen,” Jon says, shrugging. 

She looks uncomfortable and she turns her gaze back to Ghost. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so nosy…” She lets out a long breath. “My… um, my dad has cancer. It’s not terminal, but the doctors say the chances of survival isn’t very high.” Tears begin to form in her eyes again and she blurts out the rest of the story without his prompting. “And my dog died yesterday. She was hit by a car and I wasn’t even _home_ to say goodbye!” Sansa then snorts. “As if that’s not bad enough, tonight, I went to this fancy dress party and saw my ex-boyfriend making out with my friend. And I know it’s stupid but I just need to get away so I ran out and I just kept on running till I spotted your dog and…” She hugs Ghost tightly. “He looks so much like Lady!”

With all of the puzzle pieces finally fitting together now, Jon’s heart lurches in his chest. He takes a risk and moves to the sofa she’s sitting on. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t even sit beside her, but he turns his whole body to face her. “That’s shit, Sansa,” he tells her. “I don’t know what else to say, but that is fucking shit and I’ve known you for five minutes and I can already truthfully say you don’t deserve any of that. But fuck your ex-boyfriend and fuck that driver that hit your dog.” 

Sansa sniffles, her lips twitching slightly. “What about my dad?” 

“Fuck cancer,” he tells her emphatically. 

“Yeah,” she laughs suddenly. “ _Fuck cancer_.” 

He lets silence fall between them for a moment. “So here’s the thing, you’re probably still drunk,” he begins. “And you’re in no shape to walk home so just sleep here. I’ll take the sofa. You can cuddle with Ghost in my bed all you want, okay? Tomorrow, I’ll drive you home and you’re going to get through this.” 

She stares at him for a long moment before she says, “you should be an inspirational speaker.”

Jon laughs, a loud deep belly laugh that surprises him. “If you really knew me, you wouldn’t say that.” 

Sansa pouts. “Why not?” 

“I’ve been told I’m a broody bastard,” he tells her, smiling. “I’m not really the rallying type of guy.” 

“You are to me,” she says instantly, but before he can really register the weird fluttering in his stomach, she yawns. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” 

After Jon gets Sansa settled, which he is silently thanking the gods that he just washed his sheets a couple days ago, he makes himself a little cocoon on the sofa to fight against the chill of his lounge. It’s bizarre, almost downright absurd, how he could care so deeply for the welfare of a complete stranger in the span of an hour, but he truly, _truly_ wants Sansa to find only happiness in her life. And maybe if she wants to include him in that life for the foreseeable future, he wouldn’t object, but Jon is convinced she’s not going to remember their conversation in the morning anyways. 

Sunlight streams through the half-drawn back curtains and Jon groans into his pillow. He is cursing every deity he can think of for his forgetfulness over the curtains when his floorboards creak and Jon bolts upright. For a second, he’s unable to grasp where exactly he is, and then in the next second, he’s staring somewhat slack-jawed at a sleep-tousled Sansa still in his hoodie and sweats. She’s in the doorway, Ghost by her side, and there’s a small, shy smile on her lips that makes that weird surge of possessiveness run through him again. 

“Hi… um…” 

“It’s Jon,” he reminds her. 

Sansa chuckles softly. “I wasn’t _that_ drunk.” At his speculative gaze, she rolls her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Jon laughs and stretches out his limbs. Sleeping on the sofa is not so great on his back and he turns this way and that to roll out the kinks in his muscles. When he glances back up at Sansa to ask if she wants breakfast, he finds a peculiar sort of expression on her face that he can’t decipher, but then it’s gone as quickly as it came and he wonders if he imagined it altogether. 

“Coffee? Cereal?” Jon asks, pushing aside that strange moment. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything else. Eating for one usually means a really shitty diet.” 

“I really don’t want to impose,” she says. “You’ve already done so much for me and I… I should probably head home.” 

Jon nods, disappointment pooling in his stomach. “Right, sure. I can drive you.” 

“That would be great, thank you.”

He turns to reach for his keys on the coffee table when he abruptly blurts out, “you can visit anytime, you know?” 

“What?” she asks, startled.

Jon stands up, the duvet falling from his lap to the floor. He rubs a hand over his neck. “I mean… for Ghost. He seems to really like you and if you need company, he’s here for you. I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.” 

Sansa blushes again. “That would be nice.” She rubs the dog in question’s forehead, a fond smile on her lips. “It might make missing Lady hurt less.” 

“I didn’t think I said this last night, but…” Jon swallows. “For the record, I’m really sorry for everything. You don’t deserve that.”

She inclines her head. “You said that last night too. What do you mean by that? _I_ don’t deserve it. You don’t even know me.” 

Jon shrugs. “I have a good feel for people and you’re one of the good ones.” 

Sansa laughs before she steps towards him, that expression he couldn’t decipher before returning to her face. He sees it now for what it is though. It’s mischievous; it’s coy; it’s downright fucking seductive. “Would I still be considered one of the good ones if I took advantage of my host?” 

“The opposite. You’d ruin my good opinion if you didn’t.” 

Wordlessly, they crash into each other, a tangle of limbs, as they both hold tightly onto the other. Jon runs his tongue over her lips, pushing for entrance and being deliciously welcomed when Sansa matches him hunger for hunger. How they had gone from strangers to this in a matter of hours boggles his mind, but Jon is not going to question it out loud. He wants this, wants _her_ , in a way that doesn’t quite make sense. It’s just Sansa. Even broken down and at her tether, she exudes a beauty that goes far beyond the physicality of it. He _doesn’t_ know her and maybe she could still turn out be a really hot serial killer, but he does know himself and he’s never felt this kind of passion before in his life. It’s so wholly uncontained, so consuming that if he even tries to stop this, he’s sure to be burnt. 

“Is it still considered a one night stand if it’s in the morning?” Sansa murmurs against him as they stumble into his bedroom, clothes flying off in every which direction. 

Jon laughs into her neck as he continues his exploration of every inch of skin he can find. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Sansa.” 

Nine months and six days later, it turns out what they both wanted it to be was a longstanding commitment to never letting that night (morning) end. 

They try denying it for a long time, pretending it’s just casual and that it didn’t really mean anything but them trying to satisfy an itch. It might’ve worked too if they’d actually acted like normal friends-with-benefits, but Sansa basically moved in a month into their ‘thing’, citing that her department building was a ten-minute walk from his place in comparison to the thirty-minute walk from her flat. It’s just logical, she’d said. 

It became even harder to deny when Jon was invited to spend Christmas with Sansa’s family three months later and her siblings all started to regularly text him about their lives. Or when her father was four months into remission and they all decided to go away together to celebrate, _including_ Jon. 

But maybe the moment when it becomes clear that what they’ve had has always been serious comes nine months and six days later on the day of her graduation when Jon scoops her up in his arms and tells her how much he loves her for the first time and she says it back with tears in her eyes and that shy breathtaking smile on her lips. 

Yeah, he thinks as he kisses her, he’s in this for the long haul. 


End file.
